


Too Old For This

by eirtae



Series: Elias [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebellion Era - All Media Types
Genre: Age Difference, Blow Job, Dressing Room Sex, Hand Job, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Original Character centric, Sex Work, Sugar Relationships, mild exhibitionism, no daddy kink but you can squint if you’re really motivated
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 00:48:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19262599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eirtae/pseuds/eirtae
Summary: "So," said Elias, voice kept soft as he nodded his head at the jacket, "is that worth one blowjob or two?""One," replied Amos, the same snap decision making that had possessed him to rescue Elias from the closet taking hold. The young man was byfarthe most interesting thing that had happened to him since he'd retired.





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> All thanks to my wife and beta Polkera, as well as [arcanawildcard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcanawildcard) for egging me the fuck on.
> 
> All the sex is in chapter two~!

His daughter and her husband stared each other down, the tension building ever higher the longer the room was silent.

“I’m going to go have a smoke,” muttered Amos, stepping into the back hall and out of the firing line.

The second he was out of view the shouting began, and he wasted no time making it to the back door. Once there he paused, hand hovering over the door control. There was an extra pair of shoes sitting neatly on the floor mat next to the others, conspicuous in their cheap black synth-leather with faux-gold fastenings.

For a long moment Amos considered his options to the soundtrack of the argument behind him. The implications of the shoes were _painfully_ obvious, and while Amos didn’t want to get involved in the argument, it would be a cruelty to his daughter to not at least check to see if there was another woman in the house.

He decided to check the most obvious place in the apartment first and headed to the bedroom, finding himself greeted by a messy, unmade bed. He sighed deeply; both his daughter and her husband were fastidious people, and neither slept past Oh Ten at the latest. 

From the left came a faint thump followed by quiet cursing, and Amos strode across the room and pressed the button on the closet’s control panel.

Inside wasn’t another woman, but a young man, long blond hair thoroughly tangled, the front of his pants undone, and his arms held at an awkward angle with his shirt only half on. His eyes were bright blue - bright blue and _afraid_ as he tried to step back, hit the wall, stumbled and ripped his shirt on the hook that had caught his shoulder seam.

“You’re the reason I don’t have grandchildren,” said Amos as all of the signs he should have seen about his daughter’s husband clicked into place.

“I mean, not me personally,” the man was quick to point out, unsteadily holding himself up using one of his daughter’s dresses hung in the closet.

“You’re a little young for that, yes,” agreed Amos. He was _very_ young for it. So young it was possible that he was the same age as the oldest of his theoretical, nonexistent grandchildren.

“He’s kind of a bastard,” the young man pointed out.

“He really is,” sighed Amos - there was something deeply charming about the honesty and the way the young man wasn’t bothering to try unhooking his shirt, arm awkwardly held half up in the air and chest mostly exposed.

The volume of the argument had briefly lowered, but now it flared back to life, and Amos made the snap decision to rescue his daughter’s husband’s probable whore. There was no way the man was capable of coaxing someone as attractive as this into his bed without money.

He ignored the way the young man flinched when he stepped forward, reaching out to unhook his shirt and pull the rest of it down, careful not to touch skin. The fabric was so sheer it was hardly a shirt at all - definitely a whore.

“Follow me,” he commanded, turning and leading the way out of the bedroom. “We can sneak you out the back.”

There was a brief pause before the young man followed, and Amos glanced behind to see him trailing just out of reach with suspicion written all across his face, a bag over his shoulder.

“Have you got a coat?” asked Amos, voice kept low.

The young man shook his head as he pulled on his shoes. “Forgot it in the speeder.”

Amos shrugged off his own coat, holding it out on offer - the air was cold and damp today, and he was at least wearing a sweater. The young man hesitated, suspicion making him over-cautious.

The voices down the hall began to come closer, and both Amos and the young man glanced in their direction. Then he snatched the coat away from Amos while he wasn’t looking, draping it over his shoulders and stepping through the door.

They both sighed with relief when the door hissed shut behind them, Amos standing on one side of the frame and the young man on the other, bag on the ground next to his feet. The back door led out onto a narrow speeder-park balcony, and both looked out at the sheer drop of the several-hundred metre traffic lane.

“Have you got money for cab fare?” asked Amos. Odds were good the man hadn’t been paid yet.

“Yeah,” he replied. He paused and shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at Amos instead of moving to make the call. “... but I’m out of minutes on my comm,” he admitted.

“I left mine in the speeder,” replied Amos.

There was a long, awkward moment of silence as they both stared out at traffic and mulled over the fact that they were trapped together on the tiny balcony.

Amos filled the silence by pulling out the smoke he’d intended to have in the first place and lighting it. The young man watched him out of the corner of his eye, the wariness slowly being replaced by want. He chewed on his lip but didn’t say anything, looking back out at the traffic and holding the front of the coat closed without committing to using the sleeves.

“Want one?” Amos offered several minutes later - the man was really too young to be smoking, but his expression said he’d both already started and needed one for the stress.

The response was a roaring return of the suspicion as the young man eyed him in silence.

Amos pulled out a second smoke and lit it, offering it with his arm held out at full length so that the young man didn't have to step any closer. After a long moment of watching the slowly burning smoke, he reached out to take it, also forced to use the full length of his arm to avoid moving closer - it wasn't unlike when Amos had first adopted his cat Chit, and he stifled a smile. She'd spent a week watching him from under furniture, skittish and slightly too thin.

The young man had absolutely smoked before, his deep breath in and out well practiced. The silence was immediately more companionable as they both breathed tension out with the smoke.

When the young man finished his smoke, he began to work his fingers through his hair, starting at the bottom and slowly, slowly, slowly working his way up. The effort was ultimately futile despite his determination - there was absolutely no way he was going to be able to actually straighten out his hair without a mirror, a comb, possibly some product, and at least an hour.

Amos lit himself a second smoke and didn't comment, looking out at the traffic and trying to come up with the best way to break the news to his daughter.

"So," said the young man into the silence, "think you still might get grandkids?"

The boldness of the question startled a laugh out of Amos, and he looked over to the young man. He was watching him out of the corner of his eye, still working at his hair, expression mostly neutral but eyes expressing cautious humor.

"If I do, they won't be his," replied Amos. "Thank you for that."

"You really hate him," observed the young man, his gaze still sideways.

"Hate is a strong word," said Amos after a pause.

"You're thanking his hooker for breaking up your daughter's marriage on the speeder dock at their back door," the young man pointed out. He'd looked away, but not out of shame or contrition - he was focused on trying to work through a particularly nasty snarl, eyes slightly narrowed as he did his best to avoid pain.

"While you make a good point," began Amos. He paused to pull at his smoke and think. "I tried my best. But it's fair to hate a man that cheats on my daughter."

"What are you gonna do about it?" asked the young man, once again looking at him sideways with interest.

"Their divorce will be enough," Amos replied.

"What if she doesn't get a divorce?" asked the young man.

"I’ll be even more disappointed in my daughter," said Amos, taking a drag.

The young man laughed. "You're too nice to be living on Nar Shaddaa," he observed.

"No taxes and fewer Imperials," explained Amos. "And the closed communities are actually quite nice."

"I know," replied the young man with a sigh. "I've seen the ads."

"I'm Amos naLazan," Amos offered, speaking just to avoid thinking too hard about the young man's downcast eyes and slight shiver in the chill.

"Elias," the young man replied, looking at Amos with some combination of surprise, suspicion, and appreciation. He didn't volunteer a last name, cautious of revealing more than necessary.

"Given the circumstances I'm not sure I'd say it's nice to meet you," said Amos, "but I'd rather have your company than not."

Elias snorted; a fair enough assessment given the situation and his occupation.

"I -" began Amos.

The door flew open, and his daughter leaned out with a hand still on the door frame, eyes narrowed and voice loud and livid. "Dad, I've got the stupid fucking book, let's -" she caught sight of Elias and fell silent.

He looked caught out, fear rising in his eyes as her expression twisted and she made a noise that was distinctly strangled. The way he leaned back made him look decidedly smaller than he actually was.

"I'll take care of it," Amos cut in before she could speak - the matching relief from both Elias and his daughter was almost comical.

"I'm throwing the bastard out," snarled his daughter as she whirled back into the apartment.

"Call me if you need me to lend you the security team," Amos called after her, trying to keep the cheer out of his voice.

She left the door open, and both Amos and Elias leaned around each side of the door frame to look down the hall. As he watched his daughter chased her husband across the hall and into the bedroom, and Elias hastily retreated out of sight back around the door frame's edge.

Amos watched until he was certain that the arguing pair weren't going to be leaving the bedroom any time soon before gesturing Elias forward.

"If we're quick we should make it out without getting involved," he whispered before leading the way, doing his best to stay as quiet as possible.

Once in the apartment building's lift and moving up, Amos breathed a gentle sigh of relief - Elias' was significantly closer to a huff than a sigh. Then he pulled off Amos' coat, holding it gingerly as he offered it back from a full arm's length away - it was like he was afraid to touch it for too long and was still concerned about being within grabbing reach.

Amos took the coat and hung it over his arm, the awkwardness of the original silence returning as Elias looked away. Amos took advantage of the silence to look Elias over - the bag slung over one shoulder, pants that he hadn't registered were still unbuttoned low on his hips, hair successfully untangled enough that it could plausibly be described as "disheveled" instead of "disastrous", the sheer grey of his shirt revealing only marginally less than if he hadn't been wearing a shirt at all. The rip at the shoulder seam was larger than he'd thought, a scratch visible on his pale skin.

"Would you like a new shirt?" asked Amos without thought.

Elias paused in the midst of shifting from one foot to the other, looking over with the same suspicion as before - and the slightest hint of betrayal.

"I owe you for ruining my daughter's marriage," Amos hurried to clarify. "Consider it payment."

The emphasis on transaction seemed to settle Elias down, and after a pause to consider he nodded. "I'd appreciate that," he said, once again adjusting the way he was standing.

The rest of the lift ride was silent, as was the walk across the building's garage to where his driver had left the speeder running to keep it warm.

Elias stopped short when he realized which speeder he was being led to, struggling to maintain the indifference he'd regarded everything with up until now. It occurred to Amos that it was entirely possible that the apartment he regarded as slightly too small and thoroughly quaint was itself impressive to someone like Elias.

Amos decided to pretend that he hadn't noticed and didn't realize his speeder was expensive - anything else felt condescending - and kept walking, thankful that he'd finally managed to convince the new driver that he could open his own damn door. It seemed likely that being served to that degree would root Elias so thoroughly to the spot that he would be waiting for several minutes instead of one.

As Amos gave instructions to the driver, Elias opened the door on the other side of the speeder with undue caution, stepping in and sitting with more care than the leather upholstery really deserved. He did his best not to look impressed with the inside, settling his bag across his lap and ostensibly staring at his hands resting on its top, eyes flickering around to take in as much as possible while he could.

When the speeder began to move Elias briefly looked out the window at the view as the speeder made its way through the exit tunnel and out into the traffic lane. Then he let his head fall back against the seat and shut his eyes, one hand coming down to run fingers over the leather, pressing against it just hard enough to leave brief gentle imprints behind them.

He watched Elias as he breathed deep and slow with his lips slightly parted, fingers still rubbing small circles over the seat. Five minutes later and his fingers had stopped, but he didn’t open his eyes or lift his head.

“Are you alright?” asked Amos, his voice loud in the confined space of the speeder’s interior - the stillness was unnerving.

“It’s quiet,” replied Elias without moving, his voice kept low and soft, the appreciation in his tone so deep it was almost sultry.

“Sound proofing,” said Amos, gently tapping the window on his side with his knuckle. Despite his best efforts, his volume and movement felt loud and clumsy compared.

Elias hummed, and Amos rescued his datacomm from the pull out tray in front of him so that he wouldn’t spend the silence of the rest of the trip just staring. Not that Elias was likely to mind. Amos suspected that his daughter’s husband hadn’t fully appreciated exactly what he’d found.

When Amos' daughter had been in her late teens and early twenties, she'd gone through what Amos now understood was a very common and, in the case of him and his wife, _entirely deserved_ period of rebellion. During that time there was a whole collection of shops she was forbidden to enter; today Amos had directed the driver to take them to the store he'd hated most and that he knew his daughter had regularly visited anyway.

Based on the way the employee behind the counter shot Elias a dirty look and the smirk Elias threw back, he'd been here before. When the employee caught sight of _Amos_ , her entire attitude changed, and suddenly he was wondering exactly how fake the smiles of service workers were as a whole.

Elias seemed to know exactly where he wanted to go, strolling through the shop with supreme confidence despite his unfortunate appearance with the clear intention of annoying the employee at the counter. When her expression darkened enough that she headed in their direction, Amos waved her back with a placating smile; the power of his wave was disconcerting.

Once at the rack he'd headed for Elias stopped wasting time, rummaging through to find something he liked in the correct size. The shirt Elias picked wasn't what his daughter would have - it was long sleeved like the sheer one he currently wore, tight and wide necked in black with a band of sparkling blue angled from left shoulder to right hip.

It wasn't the gaudiest thing Amos had ever seen, but it _definitely_ ranked high.

"It'll look nice in a dark club," Elias explained with a shrug as he pulled it off the rack - Amos wasn't sure when Elias had caught his expression, but apparently he had.

Elias turned to step past him towards the change room and paused, eyes catching on something over Amos' shoulder. Amos turned to see what he was looking at, and discovered a jacket that looked both like it was at least somewhat warm and like it would tone down the gaudiness of Elias' other clothes considerably.

"So," said Elias, voice kept soft as he nodded his head at the jacket, "is that worth one blowjob or two?"

Amos stared at Elias for a long moment as it processed that he'd just been brazenly propositioned by someone who was at most one third his age in the middle of a store in exchange for _clothing_. Elias stared back, the vivid blue of his eyes now piercing instead of bright, waiting for an answer with patient expectation. He was young and thin and fragile, but also dry and spirited and capable of the exact kind of cynical calculation it took to get what he wanted.

"One," replied Amos, the same snap decision making that had possessed him to rescue Elias from the closet taking hold. The young man was by _far_ the most interesting thing that had happened to him since he'd retired.


	2. Part Two

Elias smiled for the first time since they'd met, the expression lighting up his face with satisfaction. The difference was _striking_ as Elias sprang past Amos to where the jacket hung and lifted it down, already in the tiny hall at the back of the store that opened into change rooms by the time that Amos was moving.

Amos smiled at the display of energy as he followed at a far more sedate pace, fully expecting Elias to be changed by the time he rounded the corner. Presumably the blowjob could wait until afterwards in the speeder.

Instead Elias was waiting still in his sheer shirt with the change room door open, leaning out to watch impatiently for Amos' arrival. He didn't give Amos time to speak, catching the front of his shirt and pulling him with gentle tugs and smiles into the change room; now that physical contact was contracted in, his need to stay out of Amos' range had dissipated.

"I'm too old for this," objected Amos with a smile even as he allowed himself to be led.

"You're too old for _me_ ," Elias reminded him, smirking as he locked the door. "And you're gonna let me blow you anyway."

The words should have put Amos off, but instead they went straight to his cock, heat washing through him as he watched Elias fall to his knees - it had been a long while since Amos had fucked someone who could move with that kind of careless enthusiasm. Elias pushed Amos the last half step back into the wall using his hands on his thighs, and Amos realized that Elias was young enough that this blowjob was likely to be mediocre at best, in which case he should have asked for two.

Then Elias' movements slowed, nuzzling his way up Amos' fly as his hands ran up his thighs to work fingers along his belt. He looked up at Amos as the buckle came undone, his gaze heated, smile conspiratorial as well as confident, undoing the button of Amos' pants one handed at the same time as he ran a thumb over his lower lip to remind Amos of where his cock was about to be.

"Fuck," hissed Amos, breath quickening as Elias focused on slowly drawing his cock out from his underwear.

Elias glanced up at the curse, an eyebrow quirked and expression so smug Amos could swear he knew what he'd been thinking. He moved even slower, one hand pumping him as the other pulled his clothing further down so that he could run fingers against the inside of one thigh. He leaned in to mouth along the side of his cock, breath hot and tongue wet against the place where his cock met his balls.

Amos took a sharp breath as Elias ran his tongue up the underside of his cock from base to tip, the hand wrapped around his length following, the other catching Amos’ wrist and leading his hand to his hair. He continued to tease, taking only the tip of Amos’ cock into his mouth, pressing his tongue against the underside, acting like they had all the time in the world despite their precarious position in a clothing shop’s change room.

It was easy to take Elias’ prompt and dig his fingers into his hair, the ability to hold onto something helping to stifle the urge to moan. His fingers tightened their grip when Elias’ wet lips began to move down his length in earnest, and he felt him hum with satisfaction around him. It was a ghost of what it would be like to feel the vibrations of a real moan, and Amos took a deep breath to steady himself against the idea that they should _really_ do this again.

Elias' mouth moved down with care, forward and back and then forward a little further each time. He sucked whenever he withdrew, one hand following his movements to take care of the rest of Amos' length and spread the spit Elias' mouth left in his wake. The other explored between his thighs, pressing gently behind his balls before taking them in hand to play with.

Amos panted as he watched Elias work, the need to stay silent at direct odds with his natural response to the heat of Elias' mouth, the tight press of his tongue, the spit-slick slide of his hand over his cock. His lips were sloppy from his efforts - he had to know that if they were caught he would look _obscene_ , and didn't seem to give a shit.

The thought made Amos shut his eyes and do his best to breathe deep, and when he opened them Elias had looked up, eyes dancing with entertainment at the state of the man above him. Either he was genuinely enjoying himself, or he _really_ wanted that goddamn jacket and was a far better actor than Amos would have given him credit for. It didn't really matter which it was; both had the same result of drawing out a soft groan and his head falling back against the wall, fingers scratching along Elias’ head through his hair.

The scratch and pull in his hair made Elias take a sharp breath through his nose, and for half a second Amos thought the moment was over, that now was when Elias was going to reveal inexperience, that now was when his age would turn over from "pretty" into "teeth."

Instead Elias' eyes fluttered shut as he let out the moan Amos had fantasized about, the soft sound of it smothered by his cock filling Elias' mouth. The feeling of the moan thrumming through his cock and the sight of Elias below him had Amos on the edge, desperately trying not to gasp and call attention to their change room - and then Elias pushed forward just a little more and _swallowed_.

Amos came before he could give Elias any warning, not quite able to entirely hold in his moan of relief, fingers tight in Elias' hair and hips thoughtlessly thrusting forward. Despite being caught off guard Elias took it well, catching himself after the first slight gag and adjusting, swallowing with each wet thrust.

Elias held Amos' cock in his mouth past when Amos was finished, letting Amos be the one to choose when to withdraw. It was a thoughtful last touch, and Amos kept his laughter silent on the air of his panting, brushing hair out of Elias' face before nudging him away from his softening cock.

As he tucked himself away Elias stayed on his knees, using the part of his sleeve over the heel of his hand to wipe spit away from his chin and lower lip.

"Good?" he asked as he looked up, voice kept quiet - his self satisfied smile made it obvious that he knew the answer.

"The best in a decade," Amos admitted before he could stop himself. Nobody had ever been as good at it as his wife, and the memory of that standard had stood the test of time well past her death.

The words made Elias blink, his smile turning pleased in a way that was far more genuine, taking a moment to bask in the praise before pushing himself to standing. He was stripping off his shirt before he was even fully on his feet - given what he’d just been doing, there was no reason for him to be particularly shy about the fact that Amos was still present.

As his shirt came off he turned towards the mirror, and Amos caught his expression reflected over his shoulder. As genuine as the smile of moments before had been, it had faded just as quickly as it had come, replaced by the previous neutrality coloured with the slightest tinge of satisfaction when he glanced toward the jacket.

The movement of his body as he reached for the new shirt drew Amos' gaze down as he let himself appreciate the view, the angle of the mirror letting him see both Elias’ back and front - and the outline of his cock, hard against the front of his pants.

Amos stepped forward, touching Elias’ spine between his shoulder blades. Elias stiffened, stopping to look warily at Amos using the mirror with the shirt on its hanger in hand.

“You were really getting off on that too,” Amos observed, voice soft in the danger of the change room, his other hand coming around to run across Elias’ skin to just above the undone button.

Elias hummed, posture relaxing as he realized that Amos wasn’t going to move any further without confirmation. “It’s… a thing,” he admitted slowly.

“I could finish you off,” offered Amos, the tip of his finger edging just below the top edge of Elias’ underwear. “If you’d like.”

“You want to watch me come in the mirror,” Elias asserted after a long pause to study him - he obviously wasn’t used to any kind of reciprocation.

“A pleasant side effect,” Amos acknowledged.

Elias huffed out a breath as he thought it over. “Why not?” he allowed with a shrug and a half-smile, hanging the shirt back on its hook and collecting his hair over one shoulder and out of the way.

Amos took advantage of the undone button, his hand sliding down over Elias' underwear but beneath his pants to slide his fly open. It was so easy that it occurred to Amos that the undone button might not be an oversight, but a carefully considered cultivation of a particular kind of image.

He ignored the implications, rubbing over Elias' cock through his underwear to tease - he was harder than Amos was used to these days, just one more thing to remind him about the difference in their age. Elias sucked in a sharp breath and leaned with one hand on the frame of the mirror, his other coming down to impatiently hook a thumb into his own underwear and pull them a little further down.

Under different circumstances Amos would have ignored the cue and continued to tease, but they were already pushing _well_ beyond the bounds of what was a reasonable risk to take, and so he obliged. He pushed his hand below Elias' underwear to take his length in hand and was rewarded with the view of Elias shutting his eyes and breathing out relief in the mirror.

As Amos freed his cock Elias brought his other hand up to the other side of the mirror's frame so that his lean against the mirror could take more of his weight. He gasped softly when Amos began to stroke - aside from closing his eyes, he was completely unselfconscious about his appearance, biting his lip to keep in any sound.

It only half worked; in a situation where he could let himself do more than quietly whine and pant, it seemed likely that Elias would be _significantly_ more vocal. The fact that the speeder was soundproofed wandered across Amos' mind, and he did his best to ignore it.

Age, impatience, and the fact that he was already wound tight from sucking Amos off had Elias trying to thrust into his hand, and Amos pressed his free hand against the skin below Elias' navel to hold him still with his ass against Amos' hips. The position itself and all it proposed seemingly made the tension release, and Elias moaned low as his come hit the mirror, fingers leaving prints next to where his breath fogged the glass.

Amos worked him through it, committing Elias' expression and panting breath firmly to memory.

It wasn't long before Elias caught his breath and pushed away from the mirror, looking over his shoulder at Amos with a smile. "Not bad."

Amos snorted a laugh at the audacity of the comment, stepping back to give Elias space.

"You're not supposed to criticize clients," he joked.

"You can handle it," shrugged Elias. "Besides," he properly turned around and immediately closed the space Amos had made, pressing their chests together and catching Amos' hand to guide it down under his pants and over his ass. "I've got a problem I want you to solve."

Amos' eyes widened as his fingers touched the handle of a toy. "You just _left it in?_ " he asked incredulously.

"I was in a bit of a rush," Elias pointed out dryly.

There was a whole host of things Amos _should_ have said, and he ignored all of them.

"What will it cost me?" asked Amos - he was under no illusions.

"Depends," replied Elias, eyes lit with anticipation. "What's my ass worth to you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the _first_ blowjob I ever wrote, but it is the first one I ever finished. I shrieked the entire way through, and then immediately got betas who actually _enjoy_ blowjobs to look it over. They say it's good, so I hope they're right!


End file.
